


Purple is the Worst Color

by hhoneycas



Series: Men's Eight [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Baseball Player Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Rower Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 13:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhoneycas/pseuds/hhoneycas
Summary: “It’s so purple, Cas.”





	Purple is the Worst Color

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for...since I posted M8 so...here!

_Three Months Later_

Cas sat at his desk, his calculus textbook open in front of him, scrolling through his phone. Only fifteen more minutes before he had to leave and he really should get something done, but alas. Shaking his head, he resolved to put it down, for real this time, and the second it hit the table, it buzzed.

“Fuck.” Cas was completely owning up to his lack of self control, but he wasn’t proud of it. Especially because the text on the screen meant he wouldn’t be putting his phone down for a bit

 

**Dean:**

**I’m on my way**

 

There had been decidedly nothing planned for them besides dinner tonight plus Dean always checked before coming over so, why was he texting him?

 

**Cas:**

**Why?**

 

**Dean:**

**You’ll see**

 

Nice and ominous, which meant calculus could wait. Twelve minutes later Dean knocked on the door, a second oddity in his behavior. Dean usually walked in and immediately co-opted Cas’ bed, whether Cas was it in or not. Either way, knocking wasn’t involved.

Warily, Cas opened the door to his boyfriend with a defeated smile on his face.

“You win.”

“Yes,” Cas said, going with it, “I do, but what did I win this time?”

From behind his back Dean pulled out a polyester jersey, presumably his baseball uniform, and held it solemnly in front of his face.

“It’s so purple, Cas.”

Cas almost closed the door on him right there.

“This is called karma, Dean Winchester,” Cas said, letting him in the door. Dean walked over to the bed and flopped down, the  jersey landing on his face.

“It’s so purple and purple is the worst color.”

“I know, you’ve told me.” Dean endlessly tormented Cas about the sweatshirt he often wore, and Cas couldn’t help but feel like it was fitting. Just desserts, if you will. “What _will_ you do?”

“Wear it. Suck it up. Not make fun of my boyfriend for his clothing choices,” Dean concluded, turning his head towards Cas. He tried to plead, only with his eyes, for an acceptance to his half-apology, and Cas gave in. He reached down a hand to pull Dean off the bed.

“You’re an asshole, Dean, I hope you learn your lesson,” Cas said. Once Dean was standing, they rested on each other, a little moment of silence. Cas pressed a quick to Dean’s lips before walking towards the door. He gestured out between the empty hallway and Dean.

“I was about to leave which means you have to as well.”

“Let me drive you,” Dean suggested, once again lacing his fingers with Cas’.

“Fine.” Cas wasn’t complaining. Gas was expensive and spending time with Dean was fun. Win-win.

Before shutting the door behind them, Cas grabbed his sweatshirt from off the hook, eliciting an angry groan from Dean.

“I think you may be the asshole in this relationship, Cas.”

“Maybe we both are.” Cas smiled up at him, light in his eyes, and the air about them relaxed. They briefly stopped holding hands so Cas could slip the sweatshirt over his head, then he took Dean’s hand in both of his and leaned against him as they walked to the car.

_________________

 

Dean dropped him off at the water for a team thing. He was instantly subjected to light-hearted teasing the whole time they worked. What they were working on was painting, _Men’s 8 Take State_ on the side of the Montlake cut, a nice reminder of the fact that they were a team, and a good one at that. It was a good reminder for Cas that he was important to said team. He appreciated them. He didn’t as much when, as they all departed, Cas didn’t have a ride and had to get one from a teammate.

“You’ll get soft if he keeps driving you everywhere, Cassie,” Bartholomew chided when he pulled up to Cas’ building. _They’re your team, you cannot punch them._ Cas just gave a wave goodbye and ran up the stairs.

 

Upstairs, in the peace and quiet of his dorm, a single room, the only good thing his parents ever gave him, Cas finally got a chance to think about his date. He and Dean had only gone on about six in the time they’d been together and despite each one of them being wonderful, Cas wanted this one to be special. But what could be better than being in this room and playing scrabble for hours with thai food surrounding them? Or going to RH and just lying on the expensive couches until they got kicked out. Or walking through the Fremont street fair buying old vinyl records and weird t-shirts. Or even when they just got burgers from ten different places just to see which one was better. How does one improve upon perfection?

_Don’t go crazy,_ Cas thought. If he knew one thing about Dean, it was that complicated overwhelmed him. He had the skeleton of an idea.

 

**Cas:**

**Please dress nicely.**

 

**Dean:**

**That was the plan, sweetheart.**

 

**Dean:**

**I’m on my way in 10m, sound good?**

**  
** **Cas:**

**Sounds great.**

 

He’d told Dean to dress nice, now Cas had to follow through as well. He opened the drawer of his dresser and found what what always there, dress shirts, sweaters, and a few t-shirts. He dug to the bottom of the drawer, trying to find something nice, and his eyed landed on something he’d gotten for Christmas. _Turns out mom got you two good things, a single room, and a chance to be petty._ Now, he waited.

__________________

 

Dean was getting flowers when Cas texted him.

 

**Cas (Your Hot Rower):**

**Please dress nicely.**

 

Thankfully, he was already dressed, and nearly to the nines. His waistcoat fit him well, and the tie matched it perfectly. The flowers were an added bonus. He parked his car a block or two away and walked up to Cas’ room, tucking them behind his back. For the second time that day, he offered a polite knock in exchange for the element of surprise.

Cas opened the door and he moved forward to hug Dean, then he saw his outfit.

“I fucking hate you,” he said. He stood there, one hand on the door, the other just grazing Dean’s shoulder.

“I brought you flowers.” He pulled them from behind his back and got to watch Cas’ eyebrows fall and furrow, and his smile falter a little. He pulled his hand back so it didn’t get hit by the door closing on Dean, who just barked out a laugh. “Baby, c’mon,” he pleaded, letting his head hit the door. “Purple carnations mean apology. I’m trying to apologize and I hear they work better with kisses,” Dean sang.

The door opened a little, and a sliver of Cas’ bright eyes peeked through. “How in hell am I still in love with you?”

“Does this mean apology accepted?”

In response, the door swung open to reveal Cas, and Dean, who hadn’t noticed his outfit before, dropped his flowers. Slim cut pants, a belt and a bright purple button-up rolled to the elbows. They matched.

Dean walked slowly into the room, and walked even slower around Cas. He slid his hands into his pockets, resigned to letting Dean watch him. “We might have to get professional photos taken to commemorate this,” Dean said, voice barely above a whisper, and with the brightness to his voice that showed he meant every word with sincerity.

Cas turned his head to look Dean in the eyes. “And why is that?”

“Real,” he took a step towards him, “physical,” he rested his hands on Castiel’s elbows, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, “proof,” he leaned in to peck Cas on the lips, “that we are both assholes.”

Cas huffed a light laugh against Dean’s mouth. “Or that on this night of nights, we were the tackiest people in downtown Seattle.”

Dean pulled away, his eyebrows raising. “Downtown?”

“Yes.” Cas grabbed him by the hand. He walked into the hallway, Dean trailing behind, then he pulled hard, forcing their bodies to come close. He took both of Dean’s hands in his and leaned close. They kept like that as their foreheads gently touched. It was beautiful, almost. Dean felt at peace.

“Why are we going downtown?” he dared to ask, still pressed close to Cas.

And in the same tone, as if nothing was changing, Cas muttered, “Because we’re going to Dick’s and then I’m going to throw you in the International Fountain.” In one swift move, he picked up his boyfriend, and leaned in to kiss him.

Dean only looked back with puzzled eyes. He stared at Cas with a look Cas usually gave, and held on a little tighter around Cas’ collarbone, pulling his calves a little closer around his back.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked him.

“Just thinking how I’ve called you an asshole a lot tonight and never really to the opportunity to appreciate that you’re _my_ asshole.”

“What, you didn’t think the random hot rower would one day be _your_ hot rower who inadvertently wears matching purple outfits with you?”

Dean just shook his head.

“Well lucky you then,” Cas said.

And as Dean leaned down for a kiss, still with Cas’ strong arms under his thighs, he couldn’t help but think, _Yeah, lucky me._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and my lifeblood can all be left in the space below :) Thanks for reading


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